WHEN THE WORLD STANDS STILL ~

   

  When the World Stands Still


It happens very rarely. The earth's axis screeches and comes to

a stop. Everything stands still then: storms, ships and clouds

grazing in the valleys. Everything. Even horses in a meadow

become immobile as if in as unfinished game of chess.

    And after a while the world moves on. The ocean swallows

and regurgitates, valleys send off steam and the horses pass

from the black field into the white field. There is also heard

the resounding clash of air against air.


________________

Zbigniew Herbert
Selected Poems
Carcanet 1985
translated from the Polish by Czeslaw Milosz and Peter Dale Scott

TEMPLE ~

MURDER ZEN

The cops holler

“Drop the Gun!”

When there is no gun!

_________________________

Bob Arnold

24 sept 16

see the fine Australian film ANIMAL KINGDOM (2010) for a fictionalized dramatization
of the police calling out, "He has a gun!" It's now the new buzz words since the cameras
are always rolling.

SEE ALL AT ONCE ~

One evening, when nothing was planned — often the best way to spend a late summer

evening — and Susan was down with a bug & fever, so I read awhile up in the bedroom with

her, by the large windows looking to the river, reading by the tail end of the daylight until

there was no light and Susan had fallen asleep and I kept on reading this large and beautiful 

book, heavy on the lap, with its deep showcase of the New York School of Poets, both

generations, meaning Ashbury, O'Hara and Koch to Berrigan and them all, and while reading

I just happened to type in wanting to find on the Internet Aram Saroyan's two early books

of poems from Random House via a put-down newsman reading the poems on a major network at the time and although I couldn't find the reading I found Aram Saroyan, in bad lighting, and all the

more interesting because of his intriguing storytelling of the same time I was reading about

in this large art book and I recommend everyone listening to Aram talking, reading his poems,

laughing softly and recalling and actually hearing him read his own one word gems and later

fielding questions from a friendly room.

[ BA ]

MURDER ~

L I V E S      M A T T E R

                                              to Emmett Till

Laquan McDonald (black)

what a fine and dignified name

isn’t even 18 years old

and dead

murdered by

Jason Van Dyke (white)

a policeman

on a busy Chicago street

in plain view

execution-style

millions have died

a natural death

since Laquan McDonald

was born

but he isn’t

one of them

___________________

Bob Arnold

28 aug 2016

M O R E





U P D A T E ~ !

GARDEN TIME ~

A U T U M N      E Q U I N O X

One time I was almost ready to be born

before I had begun to remember

the palms of my hands had not yet unfurled

on the one tree of the whole of darkness

the tree before waiting the hearing tree

the left hand had not yet told the right hand

This is our time our season is now

the only time and you must wake and begin

to remember and to know who you are

you will come to remember but forgetting

comes on its own and you will try to tell what cannot be

told and you will have only

the old words and will try to use them

for the first time but the beginning

has gone from the words and there is no way

now to bring it back to them again

the right hand learns but the left hand is the prophet

Pain was waiting that time with her one key

long before the first daylight had appeared

______________________

W S     M E R W I N

Garden Time

Copper Canyon 2016

OUR TAX DOLLARS AT WORK ~

M O R E

go get 'em

WORKING CLASS HERO ~

C.P. CAVAFY ~

House With Garden (1917)





I wanted to have a home in the country

with a very large garden — not so much

for the flowers, the trees, and the greenery

(certainly there will be that, too; it's so lovely)

but for me to have animals. Ah to have animals!

Seven cats at least — two completely black,

and, for contrast, two as white as snow.

A parrot, quite substantial, so I can listen to him

saying things with emphasis and conviction.

As for dogs, I do believe that three will be enough.

I should like two horses, too (ponies are nice).

And absolutely three or four of those remarkable,

those genial animals, donkeys,

to sit around lazily, to rejoice in their well-being.



______________________


C.P Cavafy
COLLECTED POEMS
translated from the Greek by Daniel Mendelsohn
Knopf, 2009

BEAUTY ~

Beauty

Traveling by car

On the interstate

North, along with many

Others, the beauty

Of the day is a farmer

And his team of work

Horses — across the median

And the other highway —

Gallantly plowing a field,

And neither seeing or

Caring if we see how good

Some of us still live

Grain

Two farm boys hike

Into a high pasture

Lit by rain clouds,

Scaled of singing birds,

And call out the names or

Favorite expressions of the

Dozen cows grazing who stomp

At a run uphill where

Boys and cows gather

In a circle of affection —

Tails twitching, hands slapping

Hide — all heads spilled to

A scattered pail of grain

Can You Imagine

Can you imagine this

Being your life at six

Years old walking out

The woodshed door as

A blue heron lifts up

From our old truck

And you run inside

Even though you

May be late for

School to tell us

About the bird this

Big (arms can’t spread

Yet big enough) as

We look into your

Expression loving that

Bird we missed

A Gift for the Living

We heard them —

But it was a moment

Before we saw them

Clear the trees —

I counted 66 or more

And he was still

Counting, his hand

To the sun, as

                                           Geese flew over

                                                              

                                                              

________________________

B O B     A R N O L D

Once In Vermont

Gnomon

NONTHINKING MEETS NONFEELING ~

FAIRFIELD PORTER (LETTERS) ~

F A I R F I E L D     P O R  T E R

L  E  T  T  E  R  S

a book that fell between the cracks

slender, tidy, and a compass

to the artist

DESTRUCTION AND SORROW BENEATH THE HEAVENS ~

 "It is important to know that, in the Confucian tradition,
morality was an aesthetic criterion: for Confucius, a work was
beautiful that taught one the good. In contrast, contemporary
art is floundering in various muddied formal objectives, and as
far as I can judge, in Europe the situation is the same. As if it
were possible to elevate, among the most fundamental factors 
of these works, one of them — the aesthetic — and simply 
renounce the others, the most essential: the criterion of morality.
In my opinion, this is partially the reason for the general trend
by which the readership of high literature has radically dropped.
And this is also the reason for poetry having lost its leading role.

   So that, well, now I would simply finish what I have to say by
repeating, and emphasizing, that the work of the artist is to find
his own relation to his own culture. The artist of today should
be the same as they were in the days of old: in order to bring forth
their works, they must withdraw from the world, they must keep
a great distance from it and they must create a completely individual
way of life. An artist cannot be identical with a member of society.
His role, his significance is extraordinary — if he loses it, nothing
will come in its place."


XIAO HAI speaks with LASZLO KRASZNAHORAKI

Destruction and Sorrow Beneath the Heavens
Seagull Books